


you gotta wanna break the heart (of all those pretty porcelain dolls)

by Anonymous



Series: movin along, no, i wont settle down (until im locked behind bars or kicked outta town) [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, Family Dynamics, Foster Care, Gen, IRL Fic, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, no beta we die like l'manberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I text you! Multiple times! You know why? Come on, ask. Ask me why.”“Why, Technoblade?” He drawls, voice monotone. Techno seemingly isn’t bothered by his lack of willingness to participate in the conversation.“Why, Tommy? I’m so happy you asked! Because I KNOW something like this will happen. I remind you! I tell you two hours in advance, because I don’t want you to freak out! I tell you to sit. To wait for me. It’s 10 minutes, I reason. Even Tommy can’t do something outlandish and stupid in 10 minutes, I tell myself. He’ll still be on campus! The office is right there! There’s no way that anything could possibly happen! How naive I was! How foolish! Because what do you do?”“Something badass” Tommy interjects, grinning. He can hear Techno sigh from above him.“Something incredibly, amazingly, unsurprisingly stupid!"AKA: Tommy gets in a fight, Techno's there to pick him up.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: movin along, no, i wont settle down (until im locked behind bars or kicked outta town) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163195
Comments: 10
Kudos: 280
Collections: Anonymous





	you gotta wanna break the heart (of all those pretty porcelain dolls)

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentines day! sorry i can't put little heart-shaped lollipops in your decorated valentines day shoeboxes, hope this will suffice instead lol
> 
> usual disclaimers apply, based off the characters not the people, don't send this to them, etc.
> 
> foster care au, set pre-covid! set after ah, hold out both your hands (catch me or you're dead), which is the other fic in this series. recommend that you read that one, but not required- that one is also a oneshot from this universe, so if these kinda fics are your jam you'll probably like that one too! 
> 
> tw for semi-graphic description of violence, blood, and fighting.
> 
> enjoy!

He doesn’t know why he does it. 

Ok, scratch that. He totally knows why he does it. He’s a 6ft foster kid, a little lanky and underfed, and just this side of too big for his britches. A self-prescribed “big man” with a mouth he can’t control and an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. 

Really, it’s a wonder he hadn’t hit someone yet. 

‘Sides, the kid deserved it anyway. 

He spits on the sidewalk next to the guy’s head, just to add insult to injury. His nose is bleeding all over the pavement. It’s getting his brand new shoes dirty. Fucking gross. Tommy isn’t usually one to care about dirt, but… Phil just bought these for him a few days ago, and he’d like to keep them as clean as possible, thank you very much. Tommy wipes his shoes on the kid’s clothes, the blood a stark contrast against the scuffed knees of the guy’s cargo pants. 

He’s conscious, actually, which even Tommy can admit is a little impressive. Asshole hit his head pretty hard against the concrete, after all. 

He’s not about to hit the douchebag while he’s down, that’s low, even for him. But gloating? Rubbing his win in this guy’s obnoxious face a little bit? Maybe lording it over the dickhead, just a teeny weeny bit? He’s definitely not above that. He grins, and steps over the guy’s abdomen, one foot on either side of his head, careful not to do more damage to his already bloodstained and probably unsalvagable shoes. 

“Damn. Sucks to suck, I guess.” The kid doesn’t open his eyes, but that’s kinda to be expected. “Next time, think before you speak, yeah?” 

And the bitch, the fucking prick, turns his head and spits blood onto Tommy’s sneakers. He sneers up at Tommy; teeth red with blood. and fucking spits onto Tommy’s _brand new shoes._

Tommy grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him up from under him. It’s not easy- the guy is older than Tommy and weighs a considerable amount more. Still, he slumps to knees as he’s forced upward, head lolling to rest on his shoulder, and he might actually be unconscious at this point, but Tommy couldn’t give less of a shit. He raises his fist, noting with nothing short of pure glee how his knuckles have already started to redden and swell. His hand might be broken, and the blood and sweat (whether it’s his or the kid’s, Tommy can’t remember) that coats his fingers will inevitably be washed away, but he knows he’ll be staring at bloodied fingernails for days to come. 

There’s something so fucking freeing about it. Something about the catharsis that beating the shit out of someone brings him, something about the twisted yet proud feeling he gets in his gut whenever he does. Something he wants to hold onto and savor, but something that always slips out of his grip nonetheless. Something that makes him take an extra moment, before he bashes this kid's brains in, to feel the rush of it all- the adrenaline, the anger, the fear. It makes him feel electric, _powerful_.

Something akin to how he feels when he takes a hit- when the smoke fills his lungs and he can suddenly breathe for the first time in years, if only just for a moment. Someone older, someone smarter, could wax poetic about it for hours. 

Tommy isn’t _that_ much of a poet. 

One moment he’s curling his fingers, ready to do some more damage, relishing the ache he can already feel in his joints- The next, someone significantly bigger and older than him is tackling him out of nowhere, and they’re rolling and tumbling across the sidewalk. He scrapes his palms on the concrete as he’s being dived at and forcefully yanked away from the other boy, and he and his new assailant grapple for only a few seconds.

Tommy doesn’t have the upper hand, being dangerously skinny and the shorter of the two, but he puts up a good fight as the man throws him over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing, trapping Tommy and essentially ending their scuffle. 

Even though it’s useless, Tommy pounds on the guy’s back with closed fists and wriggles in his captors’ grip. He lifts up the back of the guy’s shirt and scratches his back with his nails, which earns him a satisfying muffled yelp of pain, but only succeeds in annoying the guy. 

“Put me down this instant, you asshole!” he screams at the guy’s back, but he only mumbles something unintelligible and walks in the opposite direction of where the prick who spat on Tommy’s shoes is sitting, fallen pathetically to his knees once he’s not there to hold him up by the scruff of his shirt. A small crowd has amassed, and some other guys, seniors, by the looks of it, heckle at the man who’s holding him back.

_...Wait a second._ He knows that stupid low grumble. He faintly recognizes those stupid seniors. He knows this back. He’s seen it so many times, as his stuck-up new foster brother walks out of whatever room Tommy happens to enter. _Technoblade_.

“Techno.” He grits out. Techno, the man in question, huffs out a breath and doesn’t respond. Tommy crosses his arms and tries not to let the feeling of all the blood rushing to his head disorient him too much. Techno slings both his and Tommy’s bags over the other shoulder and begins to walk away from the scene.

“I don’t know this guy!” He shouts to the crowd that’s gathered, in a last-ditch attempt to free himself, “Unhand me, you dick!” He pulls out all the theatrics, just short of tears, banging on Techno’s back with balled fists and wriggling furiously. The teens just laugh, fat load of help they are. 

When they're about a block away, Tommy realizes that Techno isn't planning on putting him down, and intends to carry him the entire way back to Phil’s house. He groans, and twists around in the man’s grip- but it’s no use. Damn Technoblade to hell, damn his perfect grades and guaranteed lacrosse scholarship and how he’s built like a fucking brick shithouse.

“I’m not putting you down,” Techno says, as if it weren’t fucking obvious.

“I'm not putting you down” Tommy repeats, raising his voice mockingly. It’s probably not the best decision, since Techno could totally kill Tommy if he wanted, but Tommy is high on adrenaline and _really_ not looking forward to whatever awaits him when Phil gets home. 

“Come on, big T.” He whines. He doesn't really know what he’s asking for, but he can feel Techno shake his head from above him.

“Nope. We both know you’ll run, and Phil will get pissed at me, because today’s my day to take you home.” Tommy’s about to reply, something sarcastic and snappy and witty, before Techno cuts him off, shaking his head again. “I tell you, I _tell_ you! That I’ll be 10 minutes late! Because I have to talk to one of my teachers about being his TA again next quarter. I text you! I text you, Thomas-''

“It’s Tommy, you brute.” he huffs.

“You’re in no position to be saying anything right now.” Tommy rolls his eyes before realizing Techno can't see it and reaches up to flick the back of the man’s head. He doesn’t even flinch. Admittedly, it _is_ a little petty.

“I text you! Multiple times! You know why? Come on, ask. Ask me why.” 

“Why, Technoblade?” He drawls, voice monotone. Techno seemingly isn’t bothered by his lack of willingness to participate in the conversation. 

“Why, Tommy? I’m so happy you asked! Because I _know_ something like this will happen. I remind you! I tell you two hours in advance, because I don’t want you to freak out! I tell you to sit. To wait for me. It’s 10 minutes, I reason. Even _Tommy_ can’t do something outlandish and stupid in 10 minutes, I tell myself. He’ll still be on campus! The office is right there! There’s _no way_ that anything could possibly happen! How naive I was! How foolish! Because what do you do?”

“Something badass” Tommy interjects, grinning. He can hear Techno sigh from above him. 

“Something incredibly, amazingly, _unsurprisingly_ stupid! I get an urgent text from one of my friends, sending me a picture! Of you, pummeling some poor kid! Asking me if this is my new foster brother! Asking me if I know this is happening! I have to postpone a meeting I insisted upon, with a less than five minutes notice, with a teacher I respect- to rush out and find you, beating the shit out of someone. Right next to a school! Chock-full of authorities! In broad daylight! And I have to grab your scrawny ass, in front of my classmates, teammates, acquaintances, onlookers, and drag you out of trouble, yet again! And carry you! Fucking carry you! Back to our house. The _one day_ I’m responsible for you! In the 10 minutes you’re not being monitored! You get into trouble.”

Techno isn’t talking to him at this point, hasn’t been talking to him in at least 5 minutes. Tommy’s kinda impressed with the whole rant, to be honest. He had no idea the great, almighty, Technoblade could speak more than 5 words to him at a time. Had no idea that Mr. holier-than-thou himself, Technoblade, would stoop so low to Tommy’s level, even just to talk to him. Even his texts are short and concise. Really, who does that? It’s like he’s an 85-year-old man in a high school senior’s body. 

He doesn’t respond to Techno’s whole lecture, electing to pick at a loose thread in the man’s shirt. With every block they get closer to the house, he feels less like laughing and more like crying. But he’s made his choice and has to deal with the consequences, as much as he’s dreading them, (you play shitty games you get shitty prizes, he’s learned that by now at least) so he takes a shaky breath he hopes isn’t noticeable and says instead,

“I liked it better when it was Wilbur picking me up after school.” Techno stops walking, just for a millisecond, and Tommy knows that he’s hit a vein. He doesn’t drop him on his head or start yelling again, like Tommy’s expecting, only lets out a deep tired sigh and shakes his head before picking up the pace. 

Yikes, touchy subject.

“I bet you do,” He says after a few seconds of silence, and if Tommy’s not mistaken… is that a trace of bitterness in his voice? “Wilbur would’ve helped you fight him,” He pauses. “But I’m not Wilbur.” 

The rest of the walk back to the house is silent. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! this was originally going to be part of a 5+1 series but if you cant tell im a little impatient and figured this would work well as a oneshot aha 😅
> 
> reposting criteria hasnt changed, please dont repost my work. because im on anon its so much harder to make a claim to what i write, so if you see this on wattpad or something please assume its a repost and report it.
> 
> title is from wrecking ball by mother mother!
> 
> comments, kudos, bookmarks, and comments again lol are a good way of telling me you like my writing and would like to see more, so i'll know whether or not people are into this universe i'm building and if i should post more of it!


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